


you never looked so beautiful (as you do now, my man)

by mortalprojections



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: JUST GUYS BEIN DUDES, M/M, Modern AU, i wrote this in like an hour and didn't read back over it don't hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 04:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortalprojections/pseuds/mortalprojections
Summary: “Wanna go for a drive?” Billy murmurs, voice low and gravely and startling the hell out of Steve, who’d been so focused on the silence save for the low radio he’d almost forgotten the ability to speak.“Uh,” Steve says, fingers drumming on his thighs and heart racing. He wants to pull it out of his chest and tell it to calm the fuck down. “Sure, man, whatever you want.”“Sweet,” Billy shoots him a slow, saccharine smile, and Steve is oddly reminded of the Chesire cat. Billy blinks, then frowns. “Is that a compliment?”“Did I say that out loud?” Steve murmurs, eyes wide and locked on Billy’s.or: Steve and Billy work some things out.





	you never looked so beautiful (as you do now, my man)

Steve’s in a weird headspace.

Has been since a week ago when he left Billy alone for 10 minutes and saw him tucked into a corner at the edge of the bar, hand on some guys arm and a very unsubtle look in his eyes. He’d seen that look turned on a hundred people before, but _girls_. Like, he didn’t even know Billy swung that way, considering how he made it a constant point to ooze masculinity with every waking moment. It wasn’t just the sight that had thrown Steve for a loop, but the way that Billy caught his eye over the guys shoulder, the way he held his gaze like there weren’t 40 or so odd people moving between them, the way he held that intensity and the fucking _smirk_ he threw at him before returning his attention to the guy in front of him. Flitting his gaze between the guy and Steve with this look like he knew something Steve didn’t. Steve found himself glued to the spot, mouth open and catching fucking flies before he was roughly shoulder checked by someone saying _hey asshole, get out of the fucking way_. He’d muttered an apology and ducked outside for a cigarette without much preamble, allowing the cold air to ground him and cool down his erection, which apparently had a mind of its own, because what the _fuck_. He wasn’t attracted to Billy. He _wasn’t_. He liked soft things, sweet, simple things--shy smiles and cheek kisses and all that romantic shit. Billy, if nothing else, served as the prime antithesis of everything Steve liked. 

They’d worked out some form of a friendship after both of them had been forced to move out of their respective dorms for getting high in their rooms too many times. They’d been sitting in the RA’s office, waiting for him to return with what was sure to be a fucking earful, when Billy had leaned over and said _we should smoke together sometime_. 

And that was that.

They used to smoke in Steve’s car, which Billy constantly shitted on, before Billy downright _refused_ to continue if Steve didn’t change his music taste, which, coincidentally, Billy also shitted on on a never ending loop. Since then, the nights spent hotboxing Billy’s Camaro till the windows fogged up piled up quickly. Sometimes, Steve felt like he knew Billy. But other times, he felt like he was spending most of his nights with someone he hardly knew. Billy was kind of hit or miss like that. They didn’t really talk much in daylight hours. Didn’t go out together much, either. But then Billy suggested around the end of a roach that they hit up this bar, because _they don’t card there, Harrington_ and _even if they did, you turn those Bambi eyes on the bouncer and they’re putty in your hands, pretty boy._

Billy was a hard guy to read.

They’re in their usual space--Camaro parked in the corner of the east lot of campus, with the flickering streetlight that always made Steve feel unsettled if he was alone. Billy’s got his Spotify hooked up to the stereo, playing some heavy rock track that Steve has never fucking heard of, eyes low and features slack. He keeps _staring_ at Steve every time Steve takes a hit, and Steve only holds his gaze for a second before he feels like his heart is going to collapse in his chest. He wants to attribute it to the high, but he knows it’s something else--something sparking in the air between them, charged with a dangerous promise. They haven’t smoked together in a few days, haven’t talked about what it was Steve saw in the bar, why he hightailed it out of there with the lame excuse of having an early class the next day, like that’d ever stopped him before. Hadn’t talked about how oddly quiet the drive home was after Billy ditched his hookup to take Steve home. 

A lot of things go unsaid with Billy. Steve kind of appreciates that. But not now, not while he’s high and can feel the bubbling of some severe word vomit brewing in his stomach. He turns his attention out of the window dumbly, not able to see _shit_ with how foggy they’ve got the car. He can still feel Billy watching him.

“Wanna go for a drive?” Billy murmurs, voice low and gravely and startling the _hell_ out of Steve, who’d been so focused on the silence save for the low radio he’d almost forgotten the ability to speak.

“Uh,” Steve says, fingers drumming on his thighs and heart racing. He wants to pull it out of his chest and tell it to _calm the fuck down_. “Sure, man, whatever you want.”

“Sweet,” Billy shoots him a slow, saccharine smile, and Steve is oddly reminded of the Chesire cat. Billy blinks, then frowns. “Is that a compliment?”

“Did I say that out loud?” Steve murmurs, eyes wide and locked on Billy’s. Fucking _word vomit_. To his credit, Billy just laughs before starting the car up and peeling out of the lot, cracking the windows and letting the refreshingly cool night air in. The song’s changed to some Neighbourhood song Steve thinks he’s heard before, somewhere. Probably in this very situation some time ago. Despite Billy’s constant ribbing of Steve’s lo-fi and alternative music, he has a very predictable musical palate. He’ll play the same album ten times over and not bat an eyelash. Steve remembers the one time he asked why Billy rarely incorporated new artists in his repertoire, only to get a flat _because, King Steve, once you find some good shit, I mean some really good shit, it ages like fucking wine. You wouldn’t know because your taste fucking sucks._

They’re driving down some back road behind campus, one that Steve knows eventually leads to a pretty sweet lookout spot over the lake. But he’s sure that’s not where Billy’s heading, because it’s a known fucking location. Not even a kissing spot, no, people go there with the sole intention of fucking. There’s the view, there’s the trees, there’s the anonymity. Steve would know, cos he’s utilized the landscape himself on more than a handful of girls. 

Billy pulls onto the dirt, puts the car in park, and turns the headlights off.

The music is still playing, but changed now, to a song that’s a hybrid of both Billy and Steve’s music taste. The singer is crooning, _speedin’ down the back street, I’m tryin to get you in my backseat, girl I want you to ride with me, baby ride on me._ Steve sees Billy put the song on repeat before dropping his phone in the cupholder and lighting up a new joint. Still chewing gum, which, Billy has an oral fixation so bad that he’s a Freudian psychologists wet dream, but. 

“I think there’s a question you have for me, pretty boy,” Billy poses, voice thick around the puff he’s holding in his chest before he passes the joint over to Steve. To Steve’s credit, he doesn’t drop the joint, which thank fucking _god_ for that small mercy. 

“Me?” He brings the joint to his lips, feigning ignorance and eyeing Billy out of the corner of his vision. He gets a low chuckle in response. “How about we just, like, get some food or something, man. You want some food?”

“No, Steve,” Billy responds, leaning over the center console and plucking the joint out of Steve’s grasp. He takes a deep pull of it, tilting his head back as he does so, before gently putting the half-finished joint out in the ash tray he set on his dash. “I don’t want food.” 

He makes a quick _come hither_ motion with two fingers, and Steve’s heart has to be audible at this point, fucking _has_ to be, as he leans over and meets Billy halfway. Billy wraps one warm hand around the back of Steve’s neck to bring him closer, close enough that even in the dark Steve could count each and every one of his eyelashes. He trails his hand from around Steve’s neck to his jaw, which he gently tilts open before slowly blowing smoke into Steve’s waiting mouth, slow and heavy and fucking _perfect._ Steve’s chubbing up in his jeans like a middle schooler, but is too high to really feel embarrassed about it, is just thankful that it’s too dark for Billy to see. Once Steve’s back settled in his seat and exhaling is when Billy speaks again.

“So….” he trails off, the music a low, hypnotic hum on repeat between them. Steve quickly realizes he’s a shit liar, and even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t think he’ll be pulling one over on Billy any time this century, so. 

“You...like guys?” Steve questions, shocked at the way he’s able to maintain eye contact with Billy considering the fucking _weight_ of his gaze. 

“Yes,” Billy answers simply, expression giving no hint of shock or surprise at the topic of Steve’s question. “Is that a problem?”

And how the fuck does he answer that question. On one hand, there’s the _no_ answer, the _of course I don’t care if you like guys, Billy, all the power to you, live your best life, blah blah_ answer. Then, there’s the _yes_ answer, the _yes, because now I’m wondering if I like guys or if it’s just you,_ and _what the fuck, Billy, why do I like you, how did my life come about to liking you, what does any of this mean, is this what people mean by gay panic?_ answer. He opts for option three.

“Are you playing this song on repeat as an unsubtle innuendo?” And let’s Billy read between the lines with that. Let’s him read the _do you want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you right now, or am I crazy and overanalyzing the situation_ that’s hidden between his words. Billy grins slowly, Chesire cat-like, before licking over his lips real slow, plucking his gum out of his mouth with two ringed fingers and setting it in the ash tray. 

“Why don’t you drop your seat back and find out?”

Billy’s straddling his lap before Steve’s seat has a chance to click into a new locked position. He has a lapful of _Billy_ and a brief thought of how he’s surprised that Billy didn’t lecture him about carefully lowering the seat back in his baby the way he would’ve expected him to do. The night’s full of surprises. 

But, kudos to high Steve for not wasting a fucking second. Billy’s mouth is on his, hot and slick and minty and Steve’s grabbing at his thighs and ass like a starving man. Then Billy’s grabbing his jaw, rings cool against his heated skin and holding his mouth steady and just licking into it and holy _fuck_; Steve hasn’t came in his pants since he was in grade school but it’s becoming an increasing concern. Billy’s grinding down on him, hips moving like pure sin and tongue just as devious, intense with his seduction as he is with everything else. Steve tangles one hand in Billy’s wild curls, is pleased with the stutter in the roll of Billy’s hips and the aborted noise in his throat when he does so, and licks on his neck, sucking on all that tanned, golden skin like it’s his life mission. It awards him another low groan, and Steve can feel the vibration in his lips, is shocked at how fucking _hard_ he is with just a bit of heavy petting. 

He feels a brief moment of neediness when Billy pulls back from him, lips swollen and hair mused, sitting up on his lap as much as he can within the confined space of the car, before Billy sheds his leather jacket, showcasing a short sleeve silk button up that is, in fact, not at all buttoned up. Steve surges up and slips the shirt off of his shoulders, getting his mouth on one of Billy’s nipples, which he’s noticed are never _not_ hard, and gets Billy’s hands tight in his hair as a genuine moan finally falls from his lips. Billy busies himself with pushing Steve’s jean jacket off his shoulders and tugging Steve’s white t-shirt from where its tucked in the front of his jeans, exposing the dark trail of hair that leads down from Steve’s navel. 

“Get your fucking _pants_ undone, _jesus_, where do you even buy them this tight,” Billy pants, giving up on fucking with the buckle on Steve’s jeans. Steve lets out an aborted laugh before taking over the task, allowing Billy to do the same with his own. 

“You wear jeans that literally look _painted_ on. You _cannot_ talk to me.” Steve fires back, reaching down past his boxers to finally get his dick out. He’s hard as fuck, leaking at the tip and head swollen and Billy looks positively ravenous. 

“Awe, baby, you been staring at my ass?” Billy retorts, smirk sliding into place as he pulls himself out of his jeans. They’re both watching the other slowly jerk off, Billy’s lower lip tucked between his teeth as he stares. “_Fuck_, look at you. I wanna get my mouth on you so bad.”

Steve _moans_ at the sheer thought of it, has to wrap his hand around the base so he doesn’t shoot off right then. “_Please_, but not now, cos it would be embarrassing how fast I’d come.” 

“You thinkin’ about it?” Billy teases, knocking Steve’s hand away to wrap his own around it. He’s jerking them both off in one hand, and _jesus_ he’s got nice hands, warm and soft and big. The rings aren’t even cold against his dick, warmed by Steve’s body temperature and sliding nicely over the both of them. Billy slows his wrist to dribble a swab of spit down onto the two of them, and Steve hisses at the feeling before Billy starts back up again. “_Fuck_, baby, if I had you and an open bed, the things I’d fucking _do_ to you.” 

“Jesus, shut _up_,” Steve pleads, knowing that by the tone of his voice Billy will be able to hear the real _don’t stop_ laced in his words. He gets his hands down the back of Billy’s jeans, grabs two handfuls of his ass and grinds him down even closer. 

“Make you lay out and grab the headboard, wouldn’t let you touch me,” Billy says, and Steve can hear the breathlessness in his tone, is glad to know he’s not the only one struggling to keep his composure. “Suck you till you’re fucking _wet_ and _begging_ me to let you come. Ride the fuck out of you, take you so fucking deep, baby, fuck you till you couldn’t feel your fu--your fucking _legs_\--”

“_Billy,_” Steve moans, desperately reaching up and sealing his mouth over Billy’s to stop the fucking _filthy_ stream of words coming out of his mouth. Billy’s sped it up now, and with a twist of his wrist that is downright _artful_, Steve is moaning in his mouth and coming all over his hand, balls drawn up tight and back arched with the sheer force of it. Feels like he’s coming _forever_, can feel how much of it there is, soaking through his t-shirt and settling warm and sticky on the exposed part of his abdomen. Billy’s only a half step behind, groaning a low _fuck_ before adding to the mess, breath hitching on a high pitched moan as he shoots off on Steve’s already messy stomach, hips still moving in a slow grind against Steve’s as he does so. 

They’re both panting, the air hot and muggy between them before Steve pulls one hand off Billy’s hand to wrap gently in his hair and bring his lips back down to his own. He’s just had the orgasm of his _life_ and he wants to neck Billy like this till the cows come home. Billy indulges him, licking into his mouth and sighing happily against his lips before he settles back in his own seat. He looks properly _fucked_, hair fluffier than normal and face flushed, chest glistening with a sheen of sweat that looks so edible Steve wonders if his refraction time will allow him a round two right now. 

“Y’know what?” Billy questions, voice gruff and sending all sorts of tingles down Steve’s spine. “We didn’t even make it to the backseat.”

Steve frowns briefly, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about, before he tunes back into the song playing on repeat and _remembers_, realizing that Billy knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he put this song on. Manages a half-hearted glare as Billy starts laughing, fingers reaching for the unfinished joint to respark. 

“You are _such_ an asshole.” 

He gets a wink in return.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to know the songs referenced, they're in this order:  
1\. foxy shazam - the temple  
2\. the neighborhood - you get me so high  
3\. ryd - steve lacy
> 
> not only are they all fucking amazing, but they're make a nice mini playlist to listen to while reading this. if you want to rage at me about this, you can find me on twitter @dvcremontgmry


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